


daylight isn't far away

by johnllauren



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, Getting Back Together, Historical Hetalia, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 20:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19069855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnllauren/pseuds/johnllauren
Summary: Unfortunately for America, it is very easy to throw stones even though he lives in a glass house. So when his doorbell rings at 3 in the morning (eastern time, that is), his first thought is “what the fuck aretheydoing awake?”. He has failed to realize, of course, that he is also awake.“Toris?”Said man stands in his doorway, mouse-brown hair in the same style Alfred remembers, shoulders slumped, avoiding Alfred’s gaze. He’s only got one bag with him, and it rests on Alfred’s stoop.“Hi, Alfred.” Toris says, finally looking up at him.





	daylight isn't far away

**Author's Note:**

> happy rare pairs week!!! AmeLiet has the biggest place in my heart

Unfortunately for America, it is very easy to throw stones even though he lives in a glass house. So when his doorbell rings at 3 in the morning (eastern time, that is), his first thought is “what the fuck are _they_ doing awake?”. He has failed to realize, of course, that he is also awake. 

In his mind, at least, there is reason to be awake: England had called him at 6pm the previous day to deliver what was probably the news of the century. The Soviet Union had collapsed. The struggle was over, America had won, he could finally stop worrying. If only he _could_ stop worrying. 

If anything, the hole in his chest only twisted when he got the news. England had sounded relieved on the phone, more carefree than he had since the beginning of 1939. When they hung up, America could tell England was smiling. America’s had enough experience being a country to know the end of a war - or, conflict, or whatever the fuck word they were using to describe whatever he’d had with Russia - was a time for celebration, but he can’t shake the nagging anxiety pulling at his chest. 

And that’s how he’s stayed up all night, half-paying attention to the movies he keeps putting on. 

America stands from the couch, straightening his t-shirt and running a hand through his hair before he opens the door. He doesn’t know who he’s expecting it to be - Mattie, maybe - but he’s ready to reprimand whoever it is for staying up so late. 

The words die in his throat. 

“Toris?” 

Said man stands in his doorway, mouse-brown hair in the same style Alfred remembers, shoulders slumped, avoiding Alfred’s gaze. He’s only got one bag with him, and it rests on Alfred’s stoop. 

“Hi, Alfred.” Toris says, finally looking up at him. 

It’s been a while - too long - since Alfred has seen him, but he seems even smaller than he used to be, if that’s possible. The circles under his eyes have darkened again, his lips red from the way he bites them all the time. Alfred stands there for a second too long, just looking at him, before he realizes that he’s acting like a fool and steps aside to let Toris inside. 

“Are you okay?” Alfred asks, a stupid fucking question. Then he bends down to take Toris’s bag, offering a small, polite, “here, let me.” 

Toris lets him take it, but doesn’t seem very happy about doing so. He doesn’t speak until they’re both inside and he’s closed Alfred’s front door behind them while Alfred has skittered off to the kitchen to put up some tea. “I’m sorry.” He says to Alfred, standing in the center of his living room. 

“Don’t be sorry.” Alfred insists. He leaves the kettle to boil and returns to Toris’s side, moving to take off Toris’s jacket, but Toris jerks away and takes it off himself. “What happened?”

“I’m trusting you know what happened.” Toris says, placing his jacket on Alfred’s coat rack. 

“I do.” Alfred says. “I don’t mean about the news, I mean with you.” 

Toris runs a hand through his hair - the hair that’s so knotted his hand doesn’t even make it all the way through - and sits down on America’s couch. He sighs, looks down, and tries to find the right words, but only comes up with “What the fuck.” 

Alfred takes a seat next to him, but words escape him too. He hasn’t had a one-on-one conversation with Lithuania since - God, since before the Depression - and somewhere during that gap, his conversation skills have crawled into a hole and died. That, and the fact that he knows what happened to Lithuania before he first came to stay with Alfred, and who’s to fucking say what happened during his years with the Soviet Union. 

The kettle whistles, as if rescuing America from his own ineptitude, and he stands. “Ah, I’m going to make us tea. You still take yours black, right?” 

Toris nods. “Can I… come with you?” 

“Of course.” America says. The fact that Toris is back to asking permission for every little thing has Alfred ready to throw up, but he says nothing. It’s okay, Toris is free again. He’s back. 

Alfred pays far too much attention to the action of pouring water into mugs than he probably should. Toris seems equally as focused on it. 

“I’m sorry for showing up unannounced like this.” Toris says, the words rushing out of his mouth quickly. “I… I didn’t know what to do, after it collapsed, I - I wanted to feel safe-” 

Alfred places a hand on Toris’s arm, without thinking, and then immediately expects Toris to jerk away from the touch. But he doesn’t. “It’s okay, Toris. You’re always welcome here. When I said that before, it was a promise.” 

“We didn’t have a lot of time for promises.” Toris says, softly. 

“I know.” America answers. He knows that all too well, memories of their last meeting making their way into his thoughts far too often. “Fuck, I’m sorry about what -”

“It’s okay, Alfred, it’s okay. I told you before it even happened that I forgive you. We both knew it was going to happen.” Toris looks resigned, but his eyes are still bright. 

Alfred hands him his tea, black, in his old favorite mug from when they lived together (it’s white, with “Love” inscribed on the side in red, swirly script). “I still feel awful about it.” He says. 

Toris takes a long sip of tea, swallows it, and looks at the mug. “Are we still…?” 

America falters. He’d been mulling the same question over since the 30’s. He was hoping Lithuania would answer the question for him when he showed up at the doorstep. “I don’t… I don’t know. It’s up to you. I mean… I would love - I would like it, but if you don’t, I -”

Lithuania shuts him up by reaching for his chin with the hand not holding tea and kisses him. America is shocked, at first, and then the first thing he does is put his tea down before he even considers kissing Toris back. He does kiss Toris back, slowly and cautiously, like he’s afraid Toris might stop at any second. 

Toris is the first to pull away. He sets his tea down on America’s counter. “I do want to.” 

“Okay.” Alfred says. It takes him a second to get his composure back, but then he smiles. “I want to, too.” 

Toris is grinning back at him, his smile big for the first time in a long, long time. He kisses Alfred again, and this time Alfred is ready for it and he kisses him back. The kiss is sloppier this time, both of them smiling into it, too busy being happy to care about being soft and careful. Alfred moves to place his hands on Toris’s back to pull him closer, and that makes Toris flinch, ending the kiss. 

“I’m sorry. My back.” Toris says quickly.

“Sorry.” America says, and he does his best not to think of what Lithuania’s back used to look like. What it must look like now, after 6 decades.

Toris takes a deep breath. “It’s okay.” He says, and Alfred doesn’t know which one of them he’s trying to convince. “I’m here now.” 

“Do you want to get changed and rest?” Alfred asks. Toris seems awake, but Alfred knows what it’s like to push yourself for days without rest, and he’s smart enough to recognize it in other nations. For a moment, Alfred thinks Toris will decline, but Toris nods and lets Alfred guide him to his room.

It used to be their room. For ten years they were together in there, ten years of going to sleep and waking up next to each other, lazy good morning kisses and cooking breakfast. It had taken America twelve years after Toris went back to Russia to even be able to step foot in that one of his houses. 

“I missed this room.” Toris says softly as he sits down on the bed. The bed is made, the room pristine, because Alfred has taken to sleeping in a guest bedroom instead of forcing himself to deal with the memories tied to this one.

“I missed you.” Alfred replies, and maybe it’s more than a little sappy, but _he’s_ more than a little sappy. “Do you want clothes?” 

Toris looks up at him. “Yeah, please. I… yours?” 

There are still drawers and plenty of closet space filled with Toris’s clothes, but Alfred understands. There was something special about wearing the clothes of someone you love. So Alfred hands him a t-shirt and sweats that are doubtlessly far too big for Toris, but Toris accepts them with open arms. 

Toris stands awkwardly, eyeing the door. 

“You can leave to change, it’s okay.” Alfred says. He means it - it’s not like he’ll be mad at Toris, he’s just… upset at whatever Toris is hiding. “Do you have any… wounds that need cleaning?” 

Toris shakes his head. “Thanks,” he says about the clothes, and slips out of the room. 

Alfred also changes into something more comfortable than stiff jeans and a button down. He tries not to think about how hurt Toris probably is, or how scared, or… 

When Toris returns, he’s rubbing his eyes. The clothes are much too big for him, just as Alfred predicted, but he snuggles into them like they’re blankets. “Let’s get some rest.” America says, lying down on the bed, and Lithuania joins him.

Their bodies fit together just like they used to, and America pulls the blankets over them. Lithuania rests his head on America’s chest and America presses a kiss to his forehead. Toris sighs in contentment. 

Later, they will be able to talk about all the time that has elapsed since the last time they’ve spoken. Alfred will learn about what Toris has endured, Toris will learn Alfred’s perspective on the Cold War. They will talk about their relationship, and boundaries will be set, and Toris will begin to feel like a stable person, a confident nation, again. The power imbalance between them will be a point of conflict, and then it will be resolved - America learns how not to control someone he loves, and Lithuania learns it’s okay to rely on others. That all comes later, though.

Right now, the sun is just beginning to come up, but the two of them couldn’t care less. The curtains are drawn, and they are cuddling again, the first time in a while. Toris whispers a small “I love you” before he finally drifts off.

**Author's Note:**

> (if you couldnt tell the magic was the fact that toris is safe and sound and alfred can be happy again. im so soft for them)  
> find me on tumblr as lafayettesass!  
> if you have any other aph rare pairs you want me to write for this week.... hit me up


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